Nostalgia
by Dreams-of-Skies
Summary: Sometimes she just doesn't understand her own feelings...but someone else does...


**Ship:** Daniel/Vala

**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer:** The only things I own when it comes to SG1 fanfic are the plots and any characters/planets/races/critters that have never appeared in canon.

I freely admit it – I'm a D/V shipper. I have my reasons. This is the second D/V one-shot I've done, just looking into her psyche a little. Setting post-Season 10.

**Nostalgia**

It confused her, this churning in her stomach. A mass of emotion that she couldn't identify, couldn't separate into its individual strands to make it easier to combat and defeat. It just rolled, turned, bumped into the walls of her internal organs whilst leaving a dull ache behind with each pass. And meanwhile her mind tossed like a restless sleeper, tangled in the sheets of thought and memory, desperate to find the one image that might yield an answer or at least provide a moments peace so that it may slip into oblivion for a time. 

She remembered so many things about her life and yet so few of worth could she recall clearly enough to enjoy again. When she tried to grasp the tail of the beast, the image would swirl about her, confusing her further with sound and colour, until she reached to clap her hands over her face. Then it would shimmer into the darkness of her past once more, the brief glimmer her only marker in case it should ever pass by again. 

The house, her childhood home – that she could remember. The wooden slatted roof with its' decorative thatching. The shuttered windows with drying herbs hanging just inside, the breeze whirling soft scents through the rooms. The little cubby hole in the fireplace of her room where she hid her most precious treasures, in the box she had bought to house them – the little gifts of love from an absent father. 

She remembered how her mother would sing as she baked, her dark curls swinging in harmony with the tune, glittering with blue-black lights when the sun streamed over it in a gentle caress. She had been beautiful, her mother. Soft green eyes, like new spring leaves, shining with laughter. That she could remember, although she had been so young when she was left without the woman she adored. 

Then there had been her beloved, the man who had courted her so carefully for months. She could see his hands, the long fingers deftly weaving strips of leather into braids to create handles for baskets or for the blacksmith to use for fixing tangs to blades. She had lost the necklace he had woven for her long ago, back in the depths of a time she wanted to forget completely, just as she had lost her chance to be with him and live a simple life as a mother and wife, surrounded by her people and loved as a daughter of the village. 

There was that ache again, deep in the pit of her stomach, reaching up to curl tendrils through the rest of her torso, squeezing almost loving around her heart. It wasn't grief – that feeling she recognised – and it wasn't joy – that too was something she was familiar with. This was something else and it was baffling. 

She shifted in her seat, frowning the slightest amount, as she stared down at the plate in her hand, at the food upon it, the smell no longer as appetising as it had been. She didn't realise she was being watched, that someone was looking out for her even as she lost herself in her own mind. 

She thought back over moments in her life that had changed her, changed the path she had been walking, whether for better or for worse. Briefly she smiled, an image of a raging conman coming to mind. He had thought he was getting the better of her but she had always known his plans and had adjusted her own accordingly. He had almost forgiven her in the end – when she had saved his life, he hadn't really much choice but to drop the hunt. And it had signalled a fruitful albeit short-lived partnership where neither of them had managed to get shot or beaten or captured. Good days back then and ones that had helped her to find a niche in live, even if it had never felt quite as fulfilling as she had hoped for. 

Then there were the days of endless planning, positioning, plotting – spending hours putting together the perfect con and exhausting herself in the process. The thrill of the game would sear her blood, sending it pounding through her veins with a fierce buzzing akin to a swarm of wasps housed beneath her skin. Her smile grew more feral as she replayed the anguished, angered, dismayed, shocked and occasionally gleeful expressions she had caused, witnessed, drawn pleasure from during her days as a scoundrel, trickster and general pain in the pockets of businessmen across the stars. 

Another memory overlaid the older one. Here she became intrigued with someone, someone who didn't let her wiles confuse him, didn't acknowledge her as anything other than an annoyance between him and his goal. He simply treated her as another person, however frustrating she could be to him, despite the things she did to try and tempt him. He resisted her. He ignored her. He outwitted her. He was the one man she had come across that had managed to awaken a spark of the woman she had once been, the woman she had once dreamed of being…all because he looked straight through her. 

Across from her, a pair of eyes studied her face, a light of concern flashing through the depths. They had seen the flittering expressions, noted the small facial movements that indicated the emotional content of her thoughts. The owner of those eyes chose to wait – she would speak when she was ready. 

Her smile faded as another image came to mind…a face, with a square jaw shadowed by the barest of stubble, bright eyes darkened with lack of sleep, a brow that seemed more deeply furrowed than before as if a frown had been the only expression worn for days. Remembering that face, her own expression softened as the ball of odd emotion flipped over and stabbed at her again. 

Frowning, she tried to pinpoint exactly what it felt like, why it would encourage her to think of things such as her mother, the man she would have married, her first forays into conniving illegality, a man who had seen the heart of her – it made no sense. Then she realised when the feeling had begun…when their hosts had asked of them: 

Who are you? Where do you call home? 

Home. The place you call home. Where was that? Who did she consider herself to be to have a true home? 

Rising from her seat she placed the virtually untouched meal to one side and excused herself. She moved beyond the fire, out beyond the tents, until only the night was before her. She stared up into the vastness of space, briefly wondering how many of the planets that orbited the stars above she had yet to visit. Then the thought shot through her mind – who did she have that she might visit them with? Who was there that might stand with her upon another world, look up to another sky and share the wonder of that experience? 

The soft brush of cloth behind her was meant to warn her he was there but she had known he would be. Of all of them, she had known he would be the one to come after her. She stood still, her arms wrapped about her body as she hugged herself against the prevailing happy sadness that was still melting within her. She felt the heat of him before his breath brushed over the side of her neck and his arms snaked round to encompass hers. He demanded nothing of her, simply offering his presence, his support, as he always did. 

"What is this?" She spoke first, grateful he hadn't tried to push her. "This feeling…I'm not happy, I'm not sad…it confuses me…" 

She could feel his mouth twitch against her skin as he riffled through his mind for possible answers. 

"What were you thinking about?" He asked, his voice so low only she could hear it. 

"My mother before she died. The house where we lived. The man who wanted to marry me." She heard the slight edge to her voice and wondered at it a moment before his arms tightened minutely, calling her back to his question. 

"What else?" 

"The first time I swindled someone. The easy days back when I had nothing to loose and felt free." 

He nodded and his hair tickled the side of her face. 

"What else?" He asked. 

"That was it." She replied. Then she felt his chest vibrate against her back as he suppressed a chuckle. 

"Liar." He breathed and she felt a tremor run through her as he saw through her yet again. 

"You." She sighed, her fingers seeking to lace with his. "I was thinking of you." 

He moved his head, just a fraction, nuzzling closer. She relaxed back into his embrace, letting the feeling of being safe envelop her. 

"I was thinking that I'm sad those days are gone yet happy to remember them. And I was remembering the sadness that was woven among the joy sometimes." 

"It's only memories." He said. "That's all. You're just feeling the lure of the past against the promise of the future." 

"Is it?" She begged an answer from him. "Is that all?" 

He sighed, pulling her tighter against him, his fear for her evident in the way his fingers tensed over hers. 

"What brought this on?" 

She ducked her head, starting to pull away but he held tight, refusing to let her escape. 

"It was the villagers' question, wasn't it." His knowing voice. "Oh…" 

His breath was warm over her skin. She tilted her head, allowing him to rub his cheek against her jaw, crushing strands of her hair and releasing the faint perfume of the cleansers she used. 

"I'm sorry…" She whispered as she turned in his arms to tuck her face under his jaw, her arms draping themselves about his waist. He wrapped his arms about her shoulders, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair. 

"You always have a home with us. Always." His cerulean eyes bored down to find the soft green of her own, his lips curved in a gentle smile. "And we know exactly who you are and welcome you regardless." 

"I know." She smiled back, rubbing her nose against his collarbone, seeking comfort rather than teasing him the way she normally would. As ever, he knew the difference. 

They stood for a while, in each other's arms, finding comfort in the warmth and acceptance each gave the other. She looked up as his fingers brushed her cheek, soothing away the tear that had escaped her. Her gaze found his, full of compassion, friendship and a deepening love that she knew he would never take from her. 

"You have a true home." He whispered as he lowered his head towards her. 

And as she lifted her lips to meet his in a chaste kiss that was tinged with nostalgia and budding passion, she whispered to him, "You are my home. My Daniel."


End file.
